


Shag, Shagged, Shagging

by nottoolateforthegame



Series: Kink Meme Prompt Fills [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, First Time Topping, M/M, Never Have I Ever, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Shower Sex, Smut, sucking balls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 06:00:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11526021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nottoolateforthegame/pseuds/nottoolateforthegame
Summary: Inspired by Tumblr'sSherlockkinkmeme, Prompt #18:  Anything where them playing either never have I ever or truth or dare leads to them getting together it can be an au or canon compliant it doesn’t matter just them playing this (they can be playing only with each other or with others present again I don’t mind).Not exactly their first time, but a first!





	1. Cover for Shag, Shagged, Shagging




	2. Chapter 2

“Never have I ever shagged my flatmate!” Donovan delivered with a smirk directed at Sherlock.

He merely smiled and held her gaze. Around them, John and several members of the met tipped their mugs of beer back, admitting through their actions that they had in fact, shagged their flatmates. Sherlock saw the flash of frustration in Donovan’s eyes as she realized he wasn’t going to drink. She opened her mouth, no doubt intending to call him out (she’d been trying all night to insinuate that he and John were, in fact, shagging), but at the same time, Dimmock called out his declaration.

“Never have I ever shagged a co-worker!”

Sherlock’s smirk widened as Donovan was forced to break eye contact as she and most of the group took a swig. John’s hand gave a squeeze to Sherlock’s thigh under the table and he looked up, a genuine smile breaking out on his face as he took in the knowing twinkle in John’s eye. John leaned sideways, smirking.

“Never _shagged_ your flatmate, eh?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Nope.” Sherlock replied. Not his fault if Donovan had left a loophole wide enough for an automobile to drive through.

“Maybe we should do something about that.” John murmured, hand sliding up Sherlock’s thigh before giving another squeeze.

Sherlock inhaled sharply, pupils dilating and heart picking up speed at John’s suggestive behavior. They had been lovers for weeks now, but thus far, Sherlock had always been the receiving partner when they engaged in penetrative sex. His grip tightened around the handle of his mug as lust and nerves shot through his gut. He wanted. God how he wanted. But, what if? What if he was no good at it? What if he hurt John? What if he couldn’t last? What if this was what finally snapped John’s seemingly endless patience for Sherlock’s lack of experience in this area?

He was brought back to the moment when John’s hand grasped his elbow and tugged.

“...time to get this one home. Bit of a lightweight, but won’t ever admit it.” John was saying as he stood, pulling Sherlock up beside him. He tossed some cash on the table with an apology before turning and leading Sherlock out of the bar by his elbow.

Sherlock remained quiet next to John all the way home, sitting silently next to him in the cab, hand resting on top of John's where it rested on his thigh.

Sherlock nearly leapt from the cab when they arrived at Baker Street. When John made it up the stairs to 221B, he found Sherlock in the kitchen making tea. Once everything was set out and all that was left was to wait for the water, Sherlock turned to face John, attempting to portray a confidence and calmness he didn’t feel.

John eyed him momentarily, before nodding his head decisively.

“Right. I’m going to shower.” he turned down the hall. When he was nearly in the bathroom, he stopped long enough to toss an invitation over his shoulder. “You’re welcome to join me. If not, I’ll meet you in the bedroom when I’m done.”

Suddenly, Sherlock didn’t want tea. Images of a wet John, hands gliding over water slicked skin flooded his mind, and Sherlock pushed away his worries as his body flushed and hardened in anticipation. He was halfway down the hall before he realized it, then had to stop and return to flick the kettle off. He reached the bathroom just as John finished turning on the shower, stepping back to disrobe.

Sherlock watched his partner strip, eyes feasting on John, taking in the almost six pack; the flat, well defined area just above his groin, his strong thighs...then John turned and his eyes flitted to his arse without thinking. He certainly enjoyed gripping John’s arse. It was a nice handful to anchor himself or urge John along while in the midst of making love. He had touched and even kissed it countless times. Tonight, though, he was going to breach this most intimate area of John’s.

John’s voice intruded on his thoughts. “Are you going to strip and get in with me, or do you just want to play peeping tom while I shower?”

Sherlock stripped quickly, stepping into the shower and closing the glass behind him. John reached out and drew him close, giving him a deep, open mouthed kiss. The pressed and rubbed against one another under the water, kissing for what felt like ages. Finally, John pulled away.

“Oi! I’m supposed to be cleaning up in here. Here. Make yourself useful.” he handed Sherlock a washcloth that he squirted with body wash. “You do the back, I’ll do the front.”

Once John had turned away, Sherlock began soaping up his shoulders, taking his time. John would never admit it, but Sherlock knew he loved just being touched by Sherlock. He’d never realized it before they became lovers, but John was nearly as touch starved as Sherlock had been. He was incredibly affectionate, even outside of sex, something Sherlock had never expected.

John finished long before Sherlock, placing his hands against the wall as he dropped his head and gave himself over to the massage that Sherlock was giving his back. Eventually, Sherlock’s hands drifted down to his arse, massaging a cheek with each hand, fingers digging in until it was just this side of painful, kneading with purpose. John’s legs slid apart just a bit more, and Sherlock grinned.

He dropped to his knees behind the man, setting to the task of washing his legs, starting at his ankles. Slowly, so slowly, he slid his hands up the backs of his calves, fingers kneading as he drew them up and trailed bubbles. When he reached his knees, he lessened the pressure, so that when his hands drifted up the backs of John’s thighs, they barely skimmed. His hands reached John’s arse again, and he sat back, gripping John’s hips and turning him so the water ran over his back, rinsing away the suds.

He turned John away again, draping the washcloth across his fingers and sliding it slowly between his cheeks. He slid forward until he nudged the back of John’s balls, then crooked his fingers and began to slowly circle against his perineum.  

John groaned, long and low, hands clenching against the wall of the shower. Sherlock used his other hand to brace John’s hip, tracing circles with his thumb.

“Sherlock!” John choked out after a while, hips canting backwards, and Sherlock gave into his demand, sliding the hand between his legs back, settling against his opening. He simply rested there a moment, before once again taking up the slow circling pattern against John’s most intimate area. John was trusting him. John had turned over his body to Sherlock’s pleasure, was letting him lead the way, would let him penetrate him and fuck him and come inside him. Staring at where his hand disappeared between John’s legs, he suddenly wanted more...would John let him…?

“John?”

“Hmmm?” John had stepped into the shower and was facing the wall, letting the water soak his hair.

“Can I perform analingus on you?” he blurted rapidly, needing to get the question out before he lost his courage.

John froze in place under the water, and Sherlock wondered if he had overstepped. Then John let out a deep groan, head dropping under the water as one hand drifted down. Sherlock could only deduce that John was gripping or otherwise adjusting his cock, as he had his back turned to Sherlock.  

“Christ! Yeah. Yes. Of course! Anything you want.” John turned to face him. Sherlock could see just how much his question had affected the other man-his prick was practically standing straight up against his belly. Sherlock felt his own prick rapidly filling out.

“Do you want to take this to bed?” John asked, voice low.

Sherlock rose to his feet in answer, stepping out of the shower. All too soon, or not soon enough, he couldn’t decide-he had John laid out on the bed, head pillowed on his arms as he waited trustingly for Sherlock to continue his ministrations. Sherlock spent a moment running his hands up and down John’s sides, then his thighs, before grasping his thighs and pushing them outwards and upwards. He slid his hands to John’s cheeks, pressing outward on each one, exposing John’s tightly furled hole. Sherlock stared, committing the sight of John spread before him to his mind palace. Then he leaned down and licked a broad stripe from John’s perineum to his sacrum.

“Fuck!” John clenched his fists in the bedding beneath his head, burying his face further in his arms.

Suddenly, both men were breathing rapidly, little whimpers escaping John on each exhale as Sherlock began to nibble his way back down towards John’s center, teeth scraping gently against the sensitive skin of John’s arse, sometimes biting down just hard enough to leave a lasting pink mark. Occasionally, he would dart his tongue against John’s skin, little teasing, tasting swirls that hinted at what he meant to do when he reached his destination. He could feel the tension growing in the body beneath him as the anticipation grew.

When he found himself between John’s legs again, he slid his hands beneath John’s hips, lifting. John got the hint and lifted higher on his knees, keeping his legs spread as far as he could. Sherlock hummed in satisfaction, then leaned forward and mouthed one testicle, then the other, before returning to the first and suckling it into his mouth. After he felt he had paid sufficient attention to the first, he gave the second the same treatment, using his tongue to slide against it and press, careful of his teeth but exerting just a bit of pressure with his lips. He had done this much before. He knew just how much John enjoyed having his balls sucked, how it drove him near mad to have Sherlock’s lips wrapped around him, whether it be a finger, his cock or his balls…by the time he finished his ministrations, John was whining at the head of the bed, chest pressed down, arms splayed out, grasping the bedding, head tilted to one side, eyes squeezed shut.

Sherlock ran a soothing hand over his lower back, then grabbed his thighs, positioning John back in place. He spread his cheeks and ducked down, first breathing hotly against John’s entrance, then softly, gently swirling just the tip of his tongue against him. John’s whimpers grew louder, and he rocked back, seeking more. Sherlock flattened his tongue and began lapping at John’s hole, light swipes that promised more. Eventually, he settled his lips against him, pressing soft, sucking kisses, still occasionally darting out his tongue. He gradually began easing his tongue into John’s hole, pressing firmly while continuing to suckle. He worked his tongue in and out shallowly for a bit, waiting for the tight ring to loosen before opening his mouth wide and thrusting his tongue in as far as he could reach.

“Fuck!” John called out, reaching back blindly to grasp his own cheeks, spreading them wider.

Sherlock pressed closer, hands sliding forward to provide support to John’s trembling thighs. He set up a steady rhythm, tongue thrusting in and out at a pace he knew would take John to the edge. He was glad he’d moved his hands when John’s hips attempted to thrust forward, seeking friction-Sherlock’s hands at his hips held him up in place, denying him relief.

“Sherlock! Christ! If you want to fuck me you’d better get on with it!” John declared, nearly breathless.

Sherlock pulled back, then draped himself over John, reaching for the bedside table. He pulled out a bottle of lube and sat back, eyeing John. John was still holding himself open, heaving chest pressed to the bed. His eyes were pressed shut, his mouth hung open. A sheen of sweat covered his skin, and Sherlock was tempted to lick and taste and suck bruises down his spine. But then, John shifted slightly, arse rising up just a hair more as he slid back just a bit, easing the pressure on his knees and chest as more of his weight settled on his calves.

Sherlock opened the slick and poured some over his fingers before reaching forward. He placed three fingers against John’s still wet hole, swirling his middle finger against it just a moment before easing just the tip in. Thanks to his ministrations, his finger slid in easily, and he found himself easing his finger in all the way. He pulled on all his experience (limited though it was to experiences with John) in being prepared to start preparing John, slowly working him up to three fingers. As he watched his fingers disappear into John, his mind caught up to his body.

He was about to penetrate John. He already had his fingers buried in his lover, soon his cock would be taking their place. He breathed deeply, placing his other hand on John’s lower back, needing the contact. He focused on breathing the way John had shown him, deep and slow, meant to calm him and help him focus when things became overwhelming. John seemed to sense something, and lifted his head, turning to catch Sherlock’s eye as his hips, which had been rocking himself back and forth on Sherlock’s fingers, stilled.

“You okay?”

Sherlock nodded.

“Do you want me to turn over?”

Sherlock nodded again, then pulled his fingers out.

John rolled to a sitting position, facing Sherlock, groaning slightly as he stretched out his legs. He reached for Sherlock’s face and pulled him into a deep kiss, only pulling back once Sherlock responded with a groan. His hands drifted down Sherlock’s arms, taking his hands.

“We can stop. Or we can do something else.” he looked at Sherlock, gentle smile on his face.

Sherlock shook his head. “No. I want.” he stopped, blew out a frustrated breath, then met John’s eyes. “I want to. I, just….”

John laid back, pulling Sherlock down on top of him. He pulled Sherlock down into another wet, filthy kiss, hands roaming over Sherlock’s back. Both men groaned as Sherlock settled fully against John, cocks pressing together with a delicious heat that both relieved some of the building tension and drove it higher at the same time. Sherlock began rolling his hips, sliding their leaking pricks against one another, trapped between their bodies. Soon, they were both panting against one another, John’s legs wrapped high around Sherlock’s waist, eyes locked.

“Do you still want?” John gasped out, shifting slightly so that Sherlock felt himself slide down against John’s perineum.

Sherlock whimpered and nodded, pulling back slightly. John reached down, hand grasping Sherlock's prick, which froze him in place as he watched John’s hand guiding him towards his hole. He couldn’t look away as John teased at his own hole with the tip of Sherlock's dick, sliding it up and down for a moment before circling against it. Then slowly, ever so slowly, he pressed in, seating the head of Sherlock’s cock just inside the first ring of muscle, letting go as soon as it was clear Sherlock wouldn’t slide back out.

Sherlock was gasping with need, the feel of John, hot and slick, gripping around him was nearly overwhelming. His eyes fell closed as he fought for control, then flew open when he felt John wriggle in a motion that seemed designed to drive him over the edge, a circling motion that caused his dick to essentially circle John’s rim while sliding him further into John’s heat, driving him to thrust forward until he was fully seated, as he couldn’t hold still any more.

“God! Sherlock! Yes! Fuck me! Fill me up!” John cried out, back arching and legs coming up to wrap around Sherlock’s waist.

Sherlock groaned, dropping down against John’s body, pressing them together from hip to shoulder, dropping his face against John’s neck as he began moving, unable to do anything less than give into the need to thrust, to claim, to fuck. Soon they were rocking together fast and hard, the bed rocking and banging against the wall in tandem with Sherlock’s thrusts, John’s whimpers, cries of “yes” and “more” and hands clawing at Sherlock’s back and arse driving him to move faster, harder, deeper.

He felt John’s body tensing beneath him, his cries coming faster, his legs tightening around Sherlock. His hands clenched on Sherlock’s arse even as he arched hard against him, and then he was crying out wordlessly as Sherlock felt wet heat spreading across his stomach even as John’s arse clenched hard around his cock. The realization that John had just come, untouched, hit even as his own orgasm rose up and took him. He practically roared John’s name as he thrust forward hard, arse cheeks clenching to hold him in place against John as he filled him with come, nearly blacking out in pleasure as he experienced the longest orgasm of his life.

Eventually, Sherlock was brought back to the present by John’s giggling. He pulled back with a frown, eyeing John balefully.

“Oh. Don’t look at me like that. It's just-hormones. I haven’t been shagged that good since the army. And never by someone I loved as much as I love you. Right now, I’m a bit high on hormones.”

Sherlock’s brain was catching up with him. “You enjoy being _fucked_. You like giving into it, being taken hard and fast.”  

“Yeah, I do. Sometimes.” John sobered up, placing a hand against Sherlock’s cheek. “Not always. Tonight, I just-you worked me up so much, and then once I had you inside me, I couldn’t hold back. We don’t always have to do it like that, though, when you’re taking me. I can’t even imagine how fucking fantastic it's going to feel to have you take me apart slowly, driving me mad as you drag it out, teasing and testing…” his voice trailed off as a shiver racked his body, reminding them both that Sherlock was still pressed into John, a groan escaping them both as their oversensitized skin was stimulated by John’s slight clench around Sherlock.

Sherlock pushed up onto his knees, pulling out of John slowly and rolling to the side. John followed suit, pressing up against Sherlock's side, tilting his head so they could still see each other.

“And. We don’t have to try it when I’m topping. I love making love to you. However you want it, fast or slow, hard or soft, I love it.”

Sherlock hummed, hand stroking John’s back. His mind was busy, assimilating this new fact about John, coming up with new, intriguing possibilities for the future. He heard John murmur something about a mess and sticking to one another before he started to drift off, arm across Sherlock’s chest. Sherlock soon started to follow suit, with a half formed thought that he’d have to let John drag him to the bar to play that stupid Never Have I Ever game again, just to see what else it might prompt John to want to do with him. Hell, he was quite certain he could even manipulate Donovan into saying whatever it was he wanted to try.

“John?”

“Mmm…?”

“How often do they play that game at the pub?”

“Mm…not often. Just when they’ve run out of other ideas. Why?”

“Just wondering if I might find myself subjected to it anytime soon.”

He felt John smile against his chest. “Mm...probably not. But don’t worry-we can play at home.”

Sherlock was just drifting off when he heard John’s parting shot.

“I’ll teach you the strip version.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Tumblr!](http://nottoolateforthegame.tumblr.com/)


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